#psionic potential

[shironezuninja]

Done. With a hypnotized Spidey-Kun.🥰

[wishchip106]

kinda want to rewatch apocalypse just to criticize it again

see if there’s anything else i can pull apart

or maybe dofp

idk i need to just pick one and watch it

but it’s too late for that i have a good sleep schedule to keep in tact i cant ruin it now

just gonna need to pick something from my brain

i mean when Charles get baldified i physically cringe idk what it is about it

maybe its the fact he just lost his beautiful princess locks 💔

and when apocalypse takes over cerebro and Charles eyes go black. there’s something about it that just doesn’t fit and i have no idea what it is

also how was it a bad thing apocalypse sent all the nukes to space (apart from actually littering and causing some other problems due to that)

i don’t think we should let old people have access to bombs let me have them or something

the old men are sad because they lost their lethal toys ☹️

something i don’t understand is why stryker took Moira

like i get why he took the others but Moira???

tf did she do??

conspiring with mutants?? huh????

honestly the movie would’ve been just the slight bit better if Moira wasn’t there

SHE DID NOTHING

LIKE ACTUALLY NOTHING BUT STAND AROUND IM SO PISSED

DO SOMETHING????

all she did was flash around her title that she works at the CIA

you can’t convince me Charles is straight i know he’s sucked dick AND taken it up the ass 🤨🤨🤨

moving to a new topic BUT WE COULD OF HAD MISTER SINISTER

like there was more reference to him in new mutants BUT STILL

SHOW ME ESSEX CORP WHAT DID THEY DO WITH LOGANS BLOOD???

did transigen steal from them or something? maybe that’s one of the ways they could of made Laura who knows

idk what else i could talk about that i haven’t already said

[plutopri]

James and I had a new oc idea~ he's a normal little guy who got involved in an alien species plan to populate his planet.

Also Kanna's new new boyfriend I guess? Surprise!!!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i’m so curious as to what abilities charles would even have in rivals it’s hard to me to think about what telepaths can do in rivals esp charles who’s only rlly a telepath (and on some occasions has telekinesis) like emma has her diamond form jean has the phoenix and telekinesis but JUST a telepath in rivals is hard for me to think abt

i'm SO curious to see what charles' kit in rivals would be too but not because i doubt the potential of charles' access to abilities, i'm just so curious to see how net ease would play with him and what their ideas are for him. i could sit here and make ability kits for him all day really

even as predominantly a telepath, charles still has access to psionic blasts and waves and has demonstrated being able to topple sentinels and armies with these abilities. on occasion, he seems to be able to disrupt/interact with firearm functions and machinery on top of that.

and of course he has that little bit of telekinesis (not that i think it could do much all things considered but we'll give it an honorable mention why not)

we've also seen how telepathy by itself can be dangerous when it comes to the likes of inducing your greatest fears or putting you to sleep/rendering you immobile in other ways (though because of mantis' sleep ability i'm sure inducing sleep specifically wouldn't be an option for charles.), and we've seen telepathy used to buff others when it comes to stabilizing their mood/easing anxieties.

charles has even used his powers on himself to dull pains, so i don't doubt telepathy could be used to bolster the attack/defense of teammates/charles himself. if you really wanna play around, i could see giving charles a 'sonar' ability that lets him detect nearby enemies/see through walls within a certain radius of himself, but now i be gettin ahead of meself

i think the REAL question here is after the hurdle of What Would He Do is answered for charles, how would magneto be affected by any of his telepathic abilities.... ruh roh....

[brokenmagxc]

@fire-branded / starter call.

EXERTION TOUCHES THE LIPS as they draw to a stop, catching their breath under the timid moonlight. tucked behind the overgrowth, arthur signals - ‘ draw close and watch ’ - and crouches in the darkness to view the soldiers passing before them. keen, attentive eyes drag against glints of armor, taking mental note of symbols and formations. the other man slinks closer, slipping next to his pale form to join in viewing, and it is as their shoulders brush that arthur suddenly JERKS AWAY, side-stepping him with a soft hiss. brown eyes dip gold ( gilded, and the crown around his pupil gleams in recognition of something remarkably OTHER ). he touches his shoulder where cloth appears to SMOLDER and passes the man a weary look. he has never worked with him before - was this normal ??

“ ARE YOU OKAY ?? ” is his first question because, as with most things, he is too kind-natured not to ask. the man's HEATED AURA is concerning though, for it seems mildly untamed despite how otherwise put together his companion has been thus far. then again, there was a first time for everything. “ you - startled me. ” he whispers out before sighing and sliding back to his post. he could do with less surprises in his life, he muses, but that pesky little voice in the back of his head tells him it was better to ask about it now than to wait for the other to EXPLODE right out from under him.

“ do you always run so HOT ?? ”

[the-weeping-dawn]

//

[thewertsearch]

There are still a few characters I haven't killed yet. I almost forgot about them.

Homestuck's an awfully trigger-happy webcomic, it has to be said. Even the damn frog got whacked.

Most of these characters have the status you'd expect them to have, but there's still plenty of interesting information here - some of it rather unexpected.

First of all, it seems as if the introduction of Dad Crocker qualifies as a 'resurrection' of Dad Egbert. As far as the comic is concerned, these two are, in fact, the same person - and thus, they share a symbol.

Next, Sollux is apparently half-dead.

The last time we saw him, he was overexerting his psionics like crazy to accelerate the trolls' meteor towards the Green Sun. My theory is that he tapped into his Doom Aspect to achieve this feat - and that doing so has permanently reduced his lifespan, as if he made a deal for the Shinigami's Eyes.

Sollux isn't dead, but he's less alive than he used to be.

Clover's far too lucky to die, so I'm pretty confident that a question mark indicates that a character is still alive; they just haven't yet been revealed as such.

Therefore, the same is probably true for Spades Slick.

I don't know how he could have survived the destruction of a universe, but I'm not complaining.

Jane's confirmed dead, but there's a question mark appended to that death - so I think she did die, but it's not going to stick. Her Life powers are about to kick in.

And WV is the same!!

Fuck yeah! Give us our Mayor back, Hussie!

I was planning on totally messing with them in the short window of time they're in the same universe as me!

Right, right - because right now, John and Jade are in the weird, pseudocanonical dimension that Hussie's writing the comic in.

I wonder if that'll have any effect on their reality, or their awareness of the Fourth Wall? Are they currently 'non-canonical' versions of themselves? Since they're outside the comic, has everyone inside the comic forgotten that they exist?

Hopefully it isn't too late.

Let's see. They should be traveling near the speed of light across a distance of one yard, giving them about three nanoseconds before they crash through the other wall.

Wait, they're moving relativistically?

In that case, their trip should only last three nanoseconds from an observer's perspective. From their perspective, the trip's length should be different. Potentially very different, although it's impossible to estimate the degree of time dilation in effect without knowing the exact fraction of c that they're travelling at.

Anyway, Jade's powers now apparently include relativistic acceleration - which stretches time, as well as space. These two Aspects are joined at the hip, and to control one is to control the other.

Maybe I'll just level up these kids before they go, and that's it. They've earned it after all, don't you think?

And with some rare generosity from Hussie, it's time for John and Jade to experience Elder God Tier.

[basket-of-epiphanies]

i know that people have already discussed this at length but i'm watching the patreon behind the scenes character discussion for frost and listening to derek talk about the psionic order and "mind over matter" and all that and then comparing that to frost throwing his pack in ep 46 has me feeling like the exploding galaxy brain meme. like. he has this canonically 110 pound bag or whatever and yeah that's kind of a meme bc he just picks shit up and Never uses it but that's also So interesting in the context of how he was raised to Not value physical items and give no credence to "things" but rather to ideas, thoughts, mentalities. Frost was taught to hold this value his entire life yet carries a 110 pound bag around with him everywhere. And in that same vein, the order taught him that physical relationships are also supposed to be unimportant, and having people tie him down will only block him from reaching his true potential. yet he's traveled for years with these three friends and when he's "replaced" by someone else for just a few hours on guys' night he feels sensitive and self conscious. and in the carnival horror ride we see that his worst fear is being alone. Everything about his life contradicts everything he was taught he’s supposed to hold dear, (and side note, i think one of the most interesting parts about this video is the discussion of whether or not frost is Aware of what he's doing, Aware that he's directly going against the pillars of his order, but that's a discussion for another time). And all of this culminates in episode 46, when frost stands alone, all of his friends dead or dying around him, and his throws his pack. on some level i already understood what this meant for him, the getting rid of everything he was saving because it doesn't matter anymore, but after approaching it more from the side of these tenants of his faith, it's like. holy shit. he just lost all his friends, these physical attachments that "tie him down," and now he's willingly giving up all his physical belongings as well, and this is it, this is the moment he reaches that pure mind over matter because he doesn't have anything anymore. there is nothing tying him down. this should be nirvana. but instead, it's the worst moment of his fucking life. everything that was supposed to bring him paradise and freedom and immortality and whatnot has only brought him unimaginable pain and grief.

[milkydraws8]

"Telepathy ... the broadcasting and reception of the unique wave patterns of thought. Colloquially referred to as 'mind-reading' - a more apropos appellation would be psionic subjective-flow transcribers."

"... they (telepaths) tend to early achromotrichia and alopecia, usually beginning at some point in their early to mid twenties."

"Psionic Macro Orientation - the manipulation of massive objects, via psychically directed hardwaves. Telepathy - for the layman."

"... organs capable of Extrasensory Perception allow for a range of subjective experience perhaps critical in the utilization of what I suspect to be the latent 'potential' in every human - perhaps every animal."

-

McCoy, H. (1969). The Macromechanical and You. The Stabledon Journal of Paranormal Research

McCoy, H., Xavier, Charles., Richards, R., & MacTaggert, M. (1971). Psionics By The Sea. The Baxter Foundation

McCoy, H., Essex, N., & Drew, J. (1974). X Marks the Spot. Self-published

[noblcgames]

the tadpole offers psionic powers, drawn not from the Weave but the latent potential of your own mind. such power lies beyond mystra's control. and beyond her permission.

[sorceresssundries]

The Githyanki Initiate

A Lae'zel prequel story

Art by the incredible @orangekittyenergy - please send her some love for it <3

Warnings: Violence, death, angst

Nestled deep within the Tears of Selûne a hollowed-out asteroid drifted silently through the sea of night, Its silhouette stark against the luminous backdrop of stars and swirling cosmic dust. This was no place for outsiders; it was a sanctified bastion of discipline, a fortress where tradition and honour were etched into the very stone.

Within its confines, the children of Gith were hatched, raised, and forged. Their raw, untamed potential was shaped by discipline and fire, hammered into the tempered steel of seasoned warriors. Here, the weak were culled without mercy, and only the strongest emerged, tested by relentless trials to serve Vlaakith, the eternal Lich-Queen and their pitiless God. 

Not just a training ground; it was a crucible where the young were stripped of weakness, reshaped by pain and perseverance, and reborn as the relentless warriors who would one day take their place among the stars; destined to continue the eternal war against their enemies. Every stone, every shadow, and every breath pulsed with the legacy of a people determined to conquer all, driven by a history of enslavement and a future of unyielding conquest. 

In Crèche K’liir the strong survived, and the weak were forgotten. 

At its heart was a vast chamber filled with the gruelling clang of clashing blades and the grunts of exertion. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the crackling energy of psionic power, as recruits of all ages, from the youngest initiates to those on the brink of joining the Githyanki’s elite, honed their deadly skills under the vigilant eyes of seasoned instructors, their Varsh. The training grounds were meticulously divided into specialised sections, each designed to forge different aspects of combat mastery. Sparring arenas witnessed fierce one-on-one duels, where every strike could mean victory or death. Obstacle courses twisted through the grounds, designed to test not only physical agility but the recruits' strategic thinking and endurance. 

Every failure was a death sentence, and every success a stay of execution. It was barbarous, it was impersonal, it was necessary.

In these unforgiving environs, a lesson was unfolding - one that would be the most challenging, the most pivotal, ever taught to young Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir. 

She was ten years old, and she was about to be changed forever. 

Today, the weight of expectation pressed heavily on Lae’zel’s shoulders as Kith'rak Urlon, a towering figure of authority and unyielding discipline, observed the lesson. His cold, piercing gaze swept over the recruits, measuring their worth with an unreadable expression.

Lae’zel felt the intensity of his scrutiny, every movement of her body under the sharp focus of his eyes. She knew this was not just another lesson - it was a test, one that could define her path within the crèche and into the great beyond. If she was to become a Kith’rak and sit astride a Red Dragon, if she were to bring honour to her race and blaze the legacy of the Githyanki across the stars, it would all start here. Now.

There were no training swords, nor were there lighter, smaller blades meant for the soft hands of younglings. Lae’zel was an initiate of the Githyanki, and she would have her glory, or she would die chasing it. 

With the precision of a seasoned warrior, she sparred against her peers, her blade a blur of calculated strikes. One by one, she disarmed her opponents, her skill evident in the fluidity of her movements and the sharpness of her mind. Finally, she faced a young boy, a cousin from her clutch. Their clash was brief but brutal. With a swift, decisive strike, she brought him to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground.

As the boy gasped for breath, Lae’zel stood over him, her heart pounding not from exertion but from the realisation that all eyes were on her. Kith'rak Urlon stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor, and stopped before her. His expression was inscrutable, but his words were laced with a cold, hard edge.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Your ferocity and tactics are commendable, Lae’zel.”

A flicker of pride surged within her, though she kept her expression neutral. “Thank you, Kith'rak.”

“Tell me,” he continued, his tone more probing, “have you made your first kill?”

The question struck her like a physical blow. Though her training had prepared her for this moment, she hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Still, she met his gaze unflinchingly. “I have not, Kith'rak, but I eagerly await the day my blade is baptised in blood.”

He remained impassive. “That day is today,” he declared. He gestured to the boy she had just bested. “Kill him.”

For a heartbeat, hesitation flickered across Lae’zel’s face. The boy knelt before her, his breath ragged. The weight of the command, the finality of it, pressed like too-tight armour against her chest.

They were children. And as her eyes met his, memores stirred within her, bittersweet and fleeting, like a ghost from a time that no longer belonged to them.

She knew him well, he was from her clutch, the same group of young Githyanki raised together from the time they could toddle. They had studied the same ancient texts, shared the same meals in the cold, cavernous mess hall, and endured the same gruelling lessons. There were nights when, after the day’s brutality, they had found moments of quiet together. They would sit at the edge of the great asteroid, looking out at the vastness of space, watching as the lights of far-off worlds twinkled in the distance, promising future conquests. In those quiet moments, they had shared all the possibilities that were waiting for them. The battles they could face, the precious knowledge they could gather.

Entire worlds were theirs to conquer, they had the pride of the Githyanki and the impenetrable imagination of children. 

“What will you become?” Lae’zel had asked him, as she dreamt of her own future. 

He had paused for a while, before answering her. “Whatever I want.”

This was before sharper blades had been pushed into their gentle little hands. Before their futures had been decided and they still had the sweet, innocent privilege of being able to dream one for themselves and to get lost in the bright adventures of tomorrow, the way children often do. But, time has a way of sharpening the softness of youth. What was once a world of limitless possibilities slowly narrowed into a path they had no choice but to walk. Their laughter became battle cries, duty replaced dreaming, and wonder, which had once been boundless, was now shackled, locked away, and eventually… forgotten.

She stared at him now. He was steady, unafraid, despite the certainty of what was about to happen. Knowing him made her proud. Knowing him made her hesitate. Only for a moment, but long enough. 

“Perhaps I was wrong about you, Lae’zel,” Urlon said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Perhaps you lack the ruthlessness required to honour Vlaakith”

His words were a dagger to her pride. The very idea that she could fail, that she might be deemed unworthy in the eyes of her people and their queen, ignited a fire within her. She could feel the eyes of her fellow recruits on her, the raw heat of their judgement. The pressure was immense, suffocating.

“If you cannot fulfil this command, then perhaps you are the one who needs to be culled.” He gestured to three other initiates, waiting patiently at the sidelines.

 “Execute her,” he ordered them coldly.

Something pulled tight snapped within Lae’zel. This would not be the end of her legacy. Her grip tightened on her blade, and without a second thought, she whirled to face the approaching students. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the threat, she had the calculated mind of a warrior who knew she was outnumbered and outsized… but far from outmatched. 

The first initiate charged with a war cry and Lae’zel dropped into Hrath Ajak, the battle stance known for its precision and fluidity. Her muscles coiled like a spring, and as he brought his sword down in a sweeping arc meant to cleave her in two, Lae’zel darted to the side, her body a blur of motion. His blade met only air, and before he could recover, she was inside his guard, her blade flashing up to slice across his unprotected thigh. With a quick pivot, she thrust her sword into his side, between the plates of his armour. He collapsed, his eyes wide with shock as life was snuffed from them. 

The second initiate lunged at her with a snarl, his blade slashing toward her with well-honed viscousness. Lae’zel twisted her body, just barely evading the strike, but the tip of his sword slashed down her face, leaving a burning line of pain. Blood welled up from the cut and trickled into her mouth, and she spat scarlet onto the floor at his feet and hissed at him in response.

The pain was a whetstone, and she sharpened herself against it.

He advanced, each step deliberate, each swing of his sword aimed to overpower her. Lae’zel danced backward, her movements fluid, conserving her energy as she let him tire himself out. She was smaller, lighter on her feet, and she used it to her advantage. She ducked under a wild swing and darted around him, her blade flicking out to slash at the back of his knee. He staggered but didn’t fall, turning to face her with a growl of frustration. Before the growl was finished, she drew her blade across neck, silencing him with a swift, ruthless strike. He was still spluttering blood as the third soldier attempted to approach her from behind. 

He was the largest of the three, and Lae’zel knew she couldn’t match his strength, so she did not try.  He pressed his attack, striking harder each time, trying to crush her beneath his superior size. Lae’zel’s breath came in short, controlled bursts as she parried his blows, her arms shaking from the force behind each of his hits.

As he brought his sword down in a powerful overhead strike, Lae’zel dropped to the ground, rolling beneath his swing and coming up behind him. She darted around him, her movements quick and unpredictable, her blade slashing at every exposed piece of flesh she could find. Finally, she saw her chance. As he brought his sword up for another heavy blow, she leapt upwards, and thrust her blade under his chin and out through the top of his skull.

Lae’zel stood amidst the fallen, bloodied but unbent, her chest heaving with adrenaline. Salt from her sweat dripped into the gash across her face—it stung fiercely, mingling with the taste of iron on her lips. She felt the pain but did not acknowledge it.

She turned back to the boy, her cousin who she had once gazed at the stars with and asked about his future, and In a single, fluid motion, she drove her blade between his ribs and into his heart. 

His corpse slumped to the ground with the others. 

Kith'rak Urlon watched her with a neutral expression. 

There was a beat where she expected the swing of his sword to drive her to the same fate, but she was spared. 

“You will make a fine soldier, Lae’zel. Report directly to me tomorrow and we will continue your training.”

Lae’zel, still breathing heavily, bowed but did not bother to wipe the blood from her blade as she sheathed it. Let the blood of her kin stain the floor beneath her feet. She cast one last glance at the bodies on the ground before leaving them behind. 

Something had ended today, and something else began. There was no going back. 

Later that night, she sat alone in the Great Library of K’liir. Her ten short years were but a single, unpolished stone against the tower of ancient knowledge surrounding her. She was small, a solitary figure in the vastness, the low orange candlelight throwing shadows that loomed large behind her. In her small hands, still caked with the blood of her kin, she gripped a Githyanki Disc - her gold eyes danced over it, reading the story of her people as though it were a fairytale. To a frail and fanciful human, it might have seemed just that: knights clashing with dragons, the slaying of monstrous horrors. But, this was her history, and her future. She would be a hero to sail the astral sea and bring glory to her kin. She would drag a mind flayer’s severed head through the halls of her people and mount a dragon whose fiery breath would set the stars alight.

She would not just be a part of history; she would make it.

She read the disc in her hands for the third time. 

There is no other race as proud, as fierce, or as deserving of the stars as the Githyanki. We are the survivors of enslavement, the conquerors of our oppressors, and the raiders of countless worlds. We, who have risen from the chains of the Illithids, stand as the eternal guardians of the Astral Plane.

Without our vigilant guardianship, the Illithid parasites would spread like a blight across the cosmos, an uncontrollable plague that devours life and enslaves our people. These soulless creatures would have turned the stars themselves into a wasteland. It is by our hand, our unwavering resolve, that such a fate has been averted. While other races allow their emotions to cloud their judgement, we possess the strength to cast aside such weaknesses and do what must be done. A Githyanki does not falter.

Our brutality is not born of cruelty for its own sake, but of necessity. We do not shy away from the hard choices, the difficult actions that must be taken to preserve the balance of power. It is our destiny to bring order to the chaos that lesser beings have allowed to fester. 

We are the blade that cuts through decay, the fire that purges weakness, the storm that reshapes worlds.

Vlaakith gha'g shkath zai.

After reading it so many times the words became etched in her mind, she walked with aching muscles and a heaviness in her bones over to the great statue of Vlaakith that stood vigilant over the room where the history of her people was held. 

The Lich-Queen’s carved eyes seemed to pierce into Lae’zel’s very soul, demanding her fealty, her submission, her all.

She let herself have one final, mournful thought of a cousin who she had once sat with and talked of the future, before gripping the pommel of her blooded sword and vowing to never hesitate again. One day her sword would be silver, and she would be tethered to no-one, only Vlaakith.

Never again would she sit idly and watch the sun and stars with another, nor let the colours of a hopeful sky warm her days or glimmer with promises of what could be. There was no more colour, no more softness. There was only the red of blood and the black of death.

Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir, was a child no more.

[vixensdungeon]

Alright, kids, time to explore our first topic on how stuff in D&D has changed and how that affects a setting's history, also known as the Qwerth series because that's the silly name I've decided to give the world. And what is that first topic, decided by you the reader (assuming you answered my polls)? None other than

The Druid

So here's how things are going to work, and will probably work for future topics as well. I'm going to make posts on a reblog chain about each suitably distinct edition of the game (Chainmail will count as part of the original game for this purpose), and then end with a rough setting historical rundown. Sound good? Good. So let's get kicking!

Chainmail

The druid makes no appearence in Chainmail.

Dungeons & Dragons

We first see the druid as a monster in the Greyhawk supplement, and finally as a full class in Eldritch Wizardry. In its first appearence the druid uses both clerical and magical spells (the latter at a lower level), but we won't interpret them as any sort of prototypical mystic theurge. Instead we'll regard it as simply a mechanical contrivance because there's no point making a special spell list for a monster you might encounter in some dungeons. And yeah, they're part of the dungeon encounter tables now. So they don't just stay up in the wilderness!

In their later appearence as a subclass of cleric, they have their own spell list with a bunch of nature-type spells, and several that indeed would be more at home in a magic-user's spellbook than a cleric's (clerics used to have spellbooks in the very beginning). While they seem to lag behind clerics in the area of healing (and in that regard they are indeed weaker), a druid gains the use of magical spells earlier than clerics, and actually get access to cure light wounds at the same level as a result.

Here is introduced also their peculiar system of ranks. A druid starts as an aspirant, before going through several circles of initiation before finally beocming a druid. At this point they become limited in number, with a mere four Druids in existence, two Archdruids, and a singular Great Druid. Those wishing to advance when there are no vacancies must challenge a current holder of a title.

Druids are of a Neutral persuasion, and remain so when the five alignment system is introduced later. They serve not a deity but Nature itself. They cannot possess psionic potential, implying that there is something unnatural about such abilities.

[crtakespropogandist]

Why Ruidusborn!Essek would have made a ton of sense:

Luda needed a beacon for his master plan, making him more inclined to create an opportunity to nab one than to wait for it, especially since an apogee solstice only happens every 100-120 years

Luda was in contact with the Weave Mind, who chose when to make flares happen and potentially had centralized access to the dreams of any non-elves in the Bright Queen's court

As far as we know, Essek was the first child born to any of the three ruling umavi, who have the greatest access to the beacons, in centuries

Being Ruidusborn imparts a sense of not belonging, which is easy to take advantage of by stoking national tensions that make the people around the Ruidusborn more suspicious and dogmatic

Since we know that the Luxon held a key to defeating Predathos, it would make sense for a Ruidusborn to be innately averse to consecution

Essek is shorter than his younger brother, and flares are known to cause premature births

Ruidusborn are said to be cursed with misfortune, such as the death of a parent soon after an argument

They are also said to be important and/or powerful, like a prodigy in one's field of study

Also, Essek would have made the stealthiest, most ignorant exaltant ever:

Psionics? Professional inquisitor and high-finesse Graviturgist

Scary red storm dreams? Elf—doesn't dream

Emotional catalyst? Chronic emotional constipation

Creeping purple lightning on skin? Entire body is already purple

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

If a part time lord and a full time lord had a child, would the children be full time lords? (eg. if Professor Song and the Doctor had kids. I know they don't, but this is a hypothetical.)

If a part-Time Lord and a full-Time Lord had a child, would the child be a full-Time Lord?

First of all, congratulations: you've just invented a time-sensitive quasi-human meta-Gallifreyan with serious parental issues!

🧬 Genetics: Mostly Gallifreyan, Slightly Human

River Song—born human, gestated in the Time Vortex—is often described as a proto–Time Lord*. River has several Gallifreyan traits: regeneration, enhanced perception, respiratory bypass, psionic range. But she's also undeniably a little bit human.

Now, pair her with the Doctor—a full Gallifreyan (according some accounts)—and the result would be a child who is biologically almost entirely Gallifreyan, with triple-stranded DNA with extra nucleotides: Lindartron (regeneration), Chronine (temporal perception), Psychine (psionic capacity).

There may be a slight human allele here or there, depending on River's residual genome, but given the dominance of Gallifreyan traits, any human traits would likely be a minor feature or get overshadowed/cancelled out by Gallifreyan biology.

🎓 But Are They a Time Lord?

Ah. No.

'Time Lord' is not a species, it's a degree. You become a Time Lord through:

Successfully completing your Time Academy education

Having biotechnological modification (including neural, DNA, and biodata enhancements)

Owning a robe and that weird peacock collar thing

So while the child would be functionally Gallifreyan—strong, brilliant, temporally adept—they wouldn't be a Time Lord unless the Academy still exists.

🏫 So…

Their kid would be biologically very Gallifreyan, possibly with some inherited human adaptability or hybrid variability. And with some deep-seated issues. Though they wouldn't be a Time Lord unless they earned the title.

*We at GIL strongly encourage the use of the term proto-Gallifreyan, not proto–Time Lord, despite Professor Moffat's persistence.

Related:

💬|🐾👽What is the biology of proto/partial-Time Lords?: The potential biological aspects of proto/partial Time Lords.

💬|🧬🤐What's the structure of Gallifreyan DNA?: How their DNA is structured including the fourth strand, Rassilon’s Strand.

💬|👥🧬How would a hybrid fit in on Gallifrey?: Social, cultural, and academic integration of hybrids throughout Gallifrey’s history.

Hope that helped! 😃

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[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

For a game with central themes such as „every being should have a right to self-determination and autonomy“, „inclusionary communities forms bonds strong enough to protect themselves from forces that seek to prey on it“, „free will, though scary and potentially leading to harmful actions, is something worth defending for every being“, and „the cruelty the universe can spawn can be overcome with the will to continue on and do better for your people“, I find it so disappointing we‘ve had little lore that give psions the spotlight, let alone a narrative that focuses on their struggle to build back their culture and lives after who-knows-how-many-years of servitude.

I feel like the psions are the most underdeveloped in-game species, and when we do get development for them, it’s always in the context of them serving the cabal empire or the Conclave taking on antagonistic roles to sabotage the efforts of the Vanguard. I love the development of the eliksni and how in recent years, the game has really been pushing stories that humanize them, validates their struggles, and gives them hope for the future of their species, I just wish psions got the same courtesy.

Yes, they were freed under Caiatl‘s rule, but that wasn‘t given much narrative emphasis as they either continued to act for the empire or joined the Conclave, neither of which gave them a stronger presence in the story or a character that joins our cast of allies .

What was their servitude like? How much cruelty and discrimination did they face? Were there revolutions and movements for better legal protections? What parts of their culture, besides religion, did they bring with them when they were taken by the empire? Is there still anti-psion sentiments present in Uluran culture? What was their home planet like and do elder psions remember it like Riis-born eliksni remember Riis?

The psions have been influenced by Nezarec/the Witness, have been a part of the cabal empire and it’s turmoils for an extended period of time, posses incredible intelligence and psionic powers (that may have connections to the darkness), have a religious schism that was affected by Nezarec’s disappearance and the empire preventing open practices of their beliefs, and yet they are always treated as an afterthought (usually antagonistic), a one-off character in lore, or given a subservient role.

Psions are so cool and deserve the universe, yet we are given crumbs when we could have meals that accentuate the messages Destiny is trying to craft, such as respecting the right of others to have beliefs and perceptions of their own. Psions feel less like people and more like characters playing side roles to progress smaller story beats. It’s so infuriating and I don’t know if Bungie is just too timid to tackle a story involving slavery, there wasn’t enough time to develop them, or Bungie never intended for them to be more than what they currently are. I have hope we will get something soon though!!!

Acasia I haven’t forgotten about you and I never will!!

[thewertsearch]

There was however one minor anomaly. One of the failed heroes, in his new life as an ancient on this now brutal planet, began to remember. This is his story.

So, that's an explicit confirmation that memory bleed is real. I suppose it makes sense that the father of a Blood Player would be particularly prone to it.

This guy knows for a fact that trolls aren’t monsters, and it was only natural that he'd revolt against such a status quo. He’s fighting against a society built from the ground up to deny one simple truth: that trolls are pretty chill, actually.

This is the story of the Signless.

Ah, because he was a redblood. Robbed of his place on the hemospectrum, he'd have been just as much of a pariah as Karkat – although it sounds like Karkat hid it a lot better than his father did.

The trunkbeast in the room, of course, is that Karkat did get a sign. Just what happened to the Vantas name between then and now?

Unlike his peers distributed elsewhere in history, he was not given a sign at a young age. Alas, there were no signs reserved for one of his mutant blood.

So that’s how it works. I’m picturing a large compendium of signs, each mapped to a slightly different blood color. We know there are more than twelve troll signs, so there must be some way to distinguish say, a Serket, from all the other cerulean signs. Minor variations in pigmentation, perhaps?

Anyway, the point is moot in the case of Karkat Senior. The hemospectrum has a place for everyone, and everyone stays in their place – but Vantas blood isn’t on the spectrum. He has nowhere.

But it may also have been due to his mutation that he began to have the visions. Spontaneous, lucid imagery of his world in peace, before its fall.

If Big Bro Vantas is predisposed to visions, then surely Karkat, who shares most of his DNA, is equally prone to them. They are lowbloods, and we know that lowbloods are the most psychically sensitive trolls - so maybe divination is a redblood specialty, allowing the Vantas bloodline to receive more than just 'feelings' from their other selves.

And – ooh. Unlike every other type of psychic ability, Alternia wouldn’t be aware of what Vantas psionics are capable of, since there aren’t any other examples of a redblood with powers. The Signless might be the only troll in recorded history whose psionics can reach into other worlds.

This is kind of wild. Karkat – who Alternia would dismiss as a useless mistake – might just have one of the most powerful, dangerous abilities of all.

They held the promise of his people's true potential, beneath the ages of conditioned cruelty. They held the spark of revolution.